Proposal
by LadyDivine91
Summary: When Crowley discovers Aziraphale up late one night, fixing something about himself to make the two of them more of a pair, Crowley offers to lend a hand. Aziraphale x Crowley


_**Notes: **__**For the tumblr inbox ask prompt 'proposal'**_

"Aziraphale?" Crowley grumbles over the front end of a yawn, trundling barefoot from his bedroom to the living room without opening his eyes. "Are you awake already?"

_'Of course, he is,'_ he replies to himself when Aziraphale doesn't – surprising but not too alarming. _'He barely sleeps so there's nothing to wake up from.'_

Crowley, on the other hand, was deep in the throes of one of the best dreams he's ever had.

Technically, since demons don't dream, he implants a thought in his mind before he shuts his eyes. From there, it plays out like a movie inside his brain with him as the director, leading it to the outcome he wants. He hopes this most recent one will someday become a reality. But even with all the powers of his imagination, he can't lead this dream to fruition on his own.

He needs a little help.

"Aziraphale? Where the Devil are you?"

Crowley briefly considers going back to bed and waiting for Aziraphale there, returning to his beautiful dream, but who knows how long that will be? He's gotten used to lying beside his angel at night. They've slept together every night since they thwarted the Apocalypse. Aziraphale's presence – his warmth, the sound of his breathing, even that blasted holy light of his – keeps Crowley's nightmares away.

At this point, Crowley doesn't think he could sleep peacefully without him.

"Aziraphale?" He reaches the living room, scanning for any speck of light – namely Aziraphale's aura, which he reads by. But there is no light, no book on the coffee table, no empty mug of cocoa, no sign at all that Aziraphale has been there. Crowley shuffles off and searches the rest of his flat, blinking awake with each step, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eyelids to speed the process along.

"A-zira-phale …" He circles back toward the bedroom when a fluttering, like the beating of a pigeon's wings as it rises off the pavement, pulls him down the hallway towards the bathroom. "Where art thou, Aziraphale?" he mutters, curious why his angel would be checking his wings at this hour of the night.

Or possibly morning.

He's too afraid to check the time.

He rounds the corner and gets blinded even though he's nowhere near the door, the light from the bathroom so incredibly bright, he almost miracles a pair of shades to shield his eyes. But the painful white glow dissolves quickly, leaving behind spots in his vision.

"Azira-?" He stops at the door, shaking the last of the sleep from his brain, and immediately realizes two things. The first - the bright light wasn't coming from the bulb overhead, but from Aziraphale performing magic. The second is that Aziraphale has changed, his new look seizing Crowley's heart, sobering him up the second he sets eyes on him.

Aziraphale spots Crowley in the mirror, but not in enough time to hide what he's done.

"Crowley! Oh!" Aziraphale spins around, reaching behind him, fruitlessly attempting to shove his wings out of sight.

Magicked_ black_ wings.

"Aziraphale …" Crowley walks over to him, squinting in confusion "… what are you doing?"

"I was … I was just …" Aziraphale peeks back at the mirror, at himself and his wings, and sighs. "I was trying something new."

"I'll say." Crowley runs a hand down Aziraphale's right wing, examining the stunning feathers. They look so much like his own, he's tempted to unfurl his wings to compare. But seeing those black feathers, knowing they're _Aziraphale's_, makes him uneasy. "But _why_? You love your wings."

"I thought it might be nice if the two of us … _matched_. So we seemed more a pair." Aziraphale cringes, eyes shifting from Crowley's reflection in the mirror to the bathroom sink, his cheeks cherry red. "It's asinine, I know."

"No, it's not." Crowley puts his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders and kneads gently. "I'm touched that you'd want to change something you cherish so the two of us could match. But black? It isn't you."

"It isn't, huh?"

"No. But if you'd let me, I have an idea …"

Aziraphale watches Crowley raise a hand over his wing. He shakes his head nervously.

"Oh, no! You d-don't have to ..."

"Angel, I used to design _nebulas_. You don't trust me to design your wings? "

"Of course, I do. It's not that."

"What is it then?"

"I don't …" Aziraphale chews his lower lip, slightly embarrassed "… I don't want you to humor me. I know I'm being silly."

Crowley ducks under Aziraphale's wing so he can look his angel in the eyes. "I'm not humoring you. And I don't think you're being silly. So let me help you, all right?"

Aziraphale nods, but that doesn't mean he necessarily agrees. Crowley can say he approves all he likes, but Aziraphale still feels silly. "All right."

"Good! Now, let me see, let me see …" Crowley taps his chin in thought. "Let's go with … something old …" He snaps his fingers, turning Aziraphale's wings back to white. "Something _new_ …" He runs a hand over his feathers from the shoulder joint outward and silver sparkles appear, dusting Aziraphale's wings, reminiscent of the stars in the sky.

"H-how are you doing that?" Aziraphale asks, in awe of Crowley's talent. Demon magic, as far as Aziraphale understands, mostly works by breaking things down. Destroying them. But Crowley's magic is different. It's fueled by his imagination. He's discovered a loophole.

A way to use destruction to create.

"I'm removing some of the color from your feathers. It's not _particularly_ demonic. You'll be able to fix it if you want."

"And if I don't _want_ to fix it?"

Crowley grins. "It'll stay as long as you let it. Something borrowed ..." Another wave of his hand and the silver stars get ethereal black shadows added to them, giving them depth, making Aziraphale's wings appear multidimensional. "And something blue, to match your eyes." With a flourish of his fingers, blue springs up along the bottom edge of Aziraphale's wings - a soft powder blue lightly brushed along the tips, adding more of a suggestion than a declaration of color. Crowley examines his handiwork front and back, making sure it's clean and even.

That it's perfection for his angel.

"I think that does it. What do you think?"

Aziraphale stretches his wings up and out as far as they'll go for full effect, then flaps to see how they would look in flight. "They're … they're _gorgeous_!" he gasps. "They truly are, but …"

"But?"

Aziraphale chuckles. He gives his wings one last flap, then folds them carefully behind him. "Everything you said … well, you made it sound like we were getting mar-" Aziraphale cuts himself short when a box appears on the sink in front of him, as if by magic. The counter had been clear before. Aziraphale is sure of it "-ried?" He watches Crowley pick the box up and open it, revealing an elegant but simple (surprisingly considering Crowley's extravagant tastes) platinum band set with a single, pale blue stone in the center. It catches the light overhead, winking at Aziraphale the same way Crowley does. "Is that an … uh …?"

"I think the words you're looking for are _engagement ring_."

"Yes. Yes, that's it." Aziraphale turns his head to look at Crowley, staring back at the angel with a smug grin. "I-is it?"

"I would like it to be."

Aziraphale stares Crowley down, waiting for the catch. The punchline. When there's isn't one, he sputters, "A-are you _serious_?"

"Yes! Aziraphale, we've known one another _forever_. And that's not me being facetious. We've actually known one another forever. Since the beginning of time on Earth. And throughout all of the years we've spent here, do you know the one thing I have always looked forward to?"

"What?"

"Seeing you." Crowley steps behind him, wraps his arms around his waist but keeps the ring ever in Aziraphale's view. "And now that we live together and I see you every day, I never want to risk losing you. I don't want you to ever doubt for one minute that the only place I want to be is by your side."

Aziraphale stares at the ring, too afraid to take it out of its box and examine it. Because that will change everything. And whereas Aziraphale welcomes that change, he wants this moment to last - this stage in between _yes_ and _no_. "We probably won't be able to have a proper wedding ceremony, all things considered."

"So what? We're an angel and a demon, as you keep reminding me. And we happen to be in love, which is entirely unheard of. We are treading in unexplored country. I think we get to define what marriage means to us. Would that bother you?"

Aziraphale turns in Crowley's arms, 6000 years' worth of longing laid to bare in his eyes. "No. Not in the slightest."

"In fact, we don't need _any_ kind of ceremony. You're an angel. I _was_ an angel. I think that gives us both a certain measure of authority in this arena. Here." Crowley gently pulls out the ring and sets the box aside. He takes Aziraphale's left hand in his, sliding the ring slowly down his ring finger. "Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate of Eden, you mean everything to me. You are my anchor. My strength. My inspiration. You're my reason for waking up every morning. After 6000 years on this planet, I have narrowed down everything I adore to one single entity, and that's _you_. And I've recently come to terms with the fact that it always has been. Will you do me the incredible honor of standing by my side until the sun explodes and this planet drowns in fire?"

Aziraphale frowns. "That's incredibly vivid."

"Love me till beyond the end of time?" Crowley continues. "And when all is said and done, accompany me to the end of the cosmos? Because there's nowhere for me unless you're there. There is no me without you, Aziraphale. Not anymore."

"Do you mean all that?"

Crowley's eyes roll. "I _said_ it, didn't I? Of course, I mean it. I love you. I think I always have. And I know I always will. So … will you marry me?"

Aziraphale looks at the ring on his finger. It's precious, so much more to him than the one he's worn on his pinkie since time began. He has no intention of ever taking it off. But it doesn't compare to the demon holding him, waiting patiently for an answer.

Waiting for this moment, apparently, for close to 6000 years.

Same as he.

Aziraphale leans back in Crowley's embrace and smiles.

"I will."


End file.
